


The Bath

by Ashfae



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Bath Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Humor, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashfae/pseuds/Ashfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke takes a bath. A duck toy may be involved. NSFW and beware of excessive fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bath

It was times like this that made Hawke enjoy being a noble. There were a number of perks, but this was definitely one of the best. After a long, exhausting, annoying day of tramping around the Wounded Coast chasing marauders, she'd been able to come home and _get people to draw a bath for her_. She didn't ask for a full bath often because of all the trouble involved; most of the time she made do as most people did, with a basin just big enough for her to crouch in, washing each section individually. But on days like this it was more than worth the extra effort. 

She rested her head against the back of the tub and sighed, thinking that she couldn't be more content. It'd be nice if the water were hotter--there was another cauldron of water hanging in the fireplace for her to top up the bath with--but she wasn't willing to move quite yet. It was too good to lie there submerged and feel the aches and pains of the day drain out of her. And to make things truly decadent, there were bubbles, sweetly scented. It was a more flowery smell than she usually enjoyed, but she wasn't about to complain. She'd never had bubbles or foam in a bath before, though she'd heard of such things. Orana had apparently suggested some Orlesian bath oil or whatnot be added to the shopping list after last time Hawke had indulged in a proper bath, and Bodahn had complied. Hawke made a mental note to give both of them a raise.

"Sights like this are definitely worth coming home for."

Hawke lifted her head and looked over her shoulder. "You're back early," she said. Inwardly she was glowing over his words--not just the compliment, but the fact that he'd called her house _home_. She loved that she could offer him a home, knowing that he hadn't had a place to call his own since he was a child. 

Anders walked forward, smiling, and perched on the edge of the tub. "This is as decadent as I've ever seen you," he observed. He reached over to the stool resting beside the tub and picked up the glass of wine she'd left there, taking a sip. He made an impressed sound. "Good vintage, this. Living with the Champion certainly has its points."

"If you want to earn your keep, you could add more hot water," she suggested, reaching up a bare, soapy foot and poking him with her big toe.

He smirked. "I can do better than that." He reached down one hand, trailing fingers in the water and concentrating. There was a light glow from his fingers, and the water warmed considerably. 

"I never knew you could do that!" 

Anders grinned. "Something I picked up during my vagabond years. I _hated_ getting clean in icy-cold rivers." 

"I am definitely keeping you. You're filled with all sorts of useful tricks." 

"Oh yes, including quite a few you haven't seen yet. Allow me to demonstrate..." He tickled his fingers down her knee; it felt delicious on her wet, slippery skin. 

Hawke giggled; she couldn't help it. "You'll get your robes wet."

"That would be a shame." He let out a theatrical sigh. "I suppose I'd better just take them off." 

" _Excellent_ idea," she purred, watching appreciatively as he stripped down. The robes and various buckles and belts he threw over the back of a chair, and the shirt he wore beneath it soon followed, revealing a lean chest--somewhat too lean, though filling out more now that he was living with her and could indulge his Warden appetite more easily. To her disappointment, he left his breeches on and came back to kneel beside the bathtub. But disappointment faded rapidly as he dipped his arm into the water to stroke her leg, looking at her with a decidedly heated, happy expression. "Love you," she murmured, not even thinking about it.

Anders' face softened, and he turned his head and kissed the knee that was above the water. At which point his expression changed to one of astonished confusion. "What in the Void..." he muttered, picking something out of the water and holding it up. 

Hawke laughed. It was a duck, a child's toy, carved out of wood light enough to float on water. It had been sanded smooth, and time had smoothed it further, but a carved face and suggestion of wings and tail were still clearly visible. It could fit comfortably in the palm of her hand but was rather more dwarfed in Anders'. "That's Quackers," she said unhelpfully.

Anders gave her an incredulous look, lips quirking upwards. "Why do you have a duck?"

"Everyone should have a duck." 

His lips quirked further. " _Quackers?_ "

She giggled again. Really, it was ridiculous how often she giggled when she was around this man. She was usually more sarcastic in her amusement, but something about him brought out her silly side. "I was four. It seemed a good name at the time." She grinned. "I'll tell you all about him, if--"

"If?"

"If you join me in the bathtub."

Anders smiled broadly. "I can satisfy my curiosity and take advantage of a beautiful naked woman at the same time? I don't think I've ever had a better offer." He measured the tub with his gaze. "Are you sure we'll both fit, though?

"If we're willing to be friendly."

"I'm always friendly."

"You're not naked yet, though. No stories of Quackers until there's less clothing." 

He laughed and obliged, then carefully stepped in the tub and sat in front of her. It was a snug fit; her legs were squashed a bit against the sides of the tub, and his knees were pushed up out of the water because the tub wasn't long enough for him to stretch them out with both of them in it, but they managed. A lot of water got spilled on the floor in the process, though. Hawke made a mental note: a _very large_ raise for Orana and Bodahn, for putting up so patiently with their mistress' quirks.

"So," Anders said, slipping a little further down into the water, his head resting on her shoulder; her chin was just next to his ear, and one of her arms wrapped comfortably around his neck, fingers splayed across his upper chest. Her other hand reached for the glass of wine, and she sipped it, then held it so he could have a swallow as well. He found the duck again and held it up. "Quackers?"

Hawke kissed the top of his head, just because she could. "Father carved him for me," she said, reaching for the duck and smiling at the familiar feel of it in her hand. "He did some woodwork. Most of his early attempts were toys for us--Quackers was one of the first-—but he got better. Later he made his own mage staffs--"

"Staves," Anders corrected automatically.

She splashed him a bit. "Do you want to hear the story or do you want to be pedantic?" She could feel him grinning and rolled her eyes. "Anyway, he taught himself some carpentry and woodcarving. I'm not sure where we were living when he made Quackers...it might have been Redcliffe, somewhere in that area. We still moved around a lot, that long ago." She shrugged, shifting position slightly to get more comfortable. "By the time we got to Lothering he was fairly good at it, good enough to make a living, which made it easier for us to settle. Not much of a living, but then, we didn't want to draw attention to ourselves. Mother--" Hawke faltered, her mother's death was still too near, but this was a good moment and she wasn't going to let grief infect it. She steeled herself and continued. "Mother was an excellent seamstress and could do fancy embroidery as well, it's apparently something most young noblewomen are taught here. That made her popular in Ferelden. Between those skills we lived well enough."

"I'd wondered what you all did out there," he said. "From what I remember Lothering is mostly farming community, and that didn't seem to fit." There was a moment of silence, then Anders turned things back to the original, lighter topic. "And Quackers?"

"Was a present for my fourth birthday. The twins were a year old, and I was annoyed at how much of Mother's attention they took. I think Father made Quackers to distract me." She smiled at the memory. "It worked. I took him _everywhere_ , for a while. He was my companion in every imaginary game. We slayed dragons and Archdemons, hid from Templars, discovered buried treasure...we did everything."

"I can just imagine it. You must have been adorable."

Hawke laughed. "In a constantly covered in dirt and scrapes sort of way, maybe. It seemed like every day would end with Mother hauling me out of one mud pile or another and tossing me and Quackers both into a tub in front of the fire to be scrubbed. I wish Father had known your trick for heating up the water."

Anders held out a hand for the duck, and she passed it back to him. He examined it closely for a moment. "You know, I think he looks sort of like me."

That caused a moment of confusion. "Quackers? You must be joking."

"No, that smile definitely looks like my roguish grin."

"You don't _have_ a roguish grin."

Anders ignored this and continued blithely, "And we both wear feathers. His are carved in, and mine come off more easily, but the resemblance is definitely there."

Hawke butted her head against his lightly. "I refuse to admit that you and my childhood toy have _anything_ in common."

"How can you speak so slightingly of Ser Quackers?" Anders said in mock offense, holding the duck up and pecking her with it. "He's deeply hurt."

" _Ser_ Quackers? Why are you knighting my duck toy? Who are you to speak for him, anyway?"

"He looks like me. I claim a kinship."

There was no way to respond to such an outrageous claim except by tickling him, so that's what Hawke did, digging her fingers into his ribs. He yelped--Quackers went flying off into another corner of the room--and even more water got splashed on the floor as they laughed and squirmed together. 

It was a few minutes before things calmed down. "Not fair," Anders protested, still breathless with laughter. "I can't get at you from this position, and you can reach all my vulnerable bits. That's foul play."

"Whereas what you were doing was fowl play."

"I refuse to even acknowledge that pun. That was _terrible_."

"Mm." Truth was, Hawke had gotten rather distracted. All that writhing had reminded her forcibly that she had her arms--and legs--around a very naked, slippery, wet, desirable Anders. She ran her fingers lightly along the sides of his chest. He twitched automatically, still sensitive, and she laughed. "Peace, peace, I promise, no more tickling."

"Hmph. So you say, but I don't trust you at all."

"I'll have to work on that, then..." she said in a low voice, deliberately letting her breath tickle his ear. She kissed his temple. "Here, sit up and I'll apologize."

Anders snorted with disbelief, but did sit up. She brought her hands back around to his shoulders and started massaging, her fingers slipping easily on wet skin. He let out an ecstatic moan, immediately relaxing beneath her touch. "You're forgiven so long as you don't ever stop," he said, sighing happily. 

She kissed the back of his neck lightly, then lingeringly, concentrating more on her hands. She rubbed the cords of his neck, shoulders, moved briefly down his arms but drifted back to trace his shoulderblades. She was less massaging now and more just appreciating the skin, rubbing her hands firmly over every inch of his back she could reach from this position. Then she tugged lightly on his upper arm. Obediently he leaned back against her, head once more resting on her shoulder, while she moved her hands along his chest. Hawke couldn't see much of his face from this position, but knew what expression he'd be wearing. He let out a low rumble like a purr as one of her palms brushed over a nipple, and she smiled and moved her hands lower, teasing.

_That_ made him tense again, in mixed question and anticipation. She deliberately avoided the place he wanted her to touch--the place she wanted to touch, truthfully--instead moving her hand around it, lower torso, upper legs, brushing along the curly hairs she found without moving closer. This was a little awkward--he was taller than she was, and from this position she could only reach him with one hand, the other stayed on his shoulder for leverage--but oh, so worth the trouble...her name broke from his lips in a plea, and he reached up and clutched the hand resting on his shoulder. She smiled and gave him what he wanted, moved one finger along the length of him, then her thumb and forefinger on either side. He groaned with impatience, his hand squeezing hers in a silent demand for more, and she obeyed, clasping all her fingers around him and moving slowly up and down. 

The soapy water made the experience very different, fluid and smooth and easier than usual. And, clearly, it had a profound affect on Anders, who was rock-still, hissing between his teeth, gripping her with one hand and the bathtub with the other. Hawke was charmed by his reaction and watched closely, enjoying the change. Usually it was Anders making her lose control. He had so much experience it was hard to turn the tables on him, and she loved the few occasions when it happened. She moved her hand faster, keeping a firm grip but letting her thumb and forefinger wander a bit in addition, lightly teasing the ring where foreskin met shaft, pulling smooth and quick until Anders tensed and released in her hand, gasping for breath and sagging back against her. 

Hawke kissed his head again, running her hand up the length of his body as he went limp in her embrace. Both her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she held him close as he shuddered in the aftermath of climax, and decided she'd been wrong earlier. _Now_ , she couldn't be more content.

* * *

The next morning, she awoke slowly, automatically flinging out an arm to see if Anders was beside her. He wasn't, which was disappointing though not a surprise; he often left early in the morning.

But her hand did encounter something, a small hard shape and the sound of crackling paper. She smiled to see her wooden duck resting on the bed where Anders should be, along with a note in his scribbled handwriting.

_Ser Quackers thanks you for his latest adventure, and hopes there will be another_ very soon _. See you tonight, love._

Hawke laughed, and lay in bed for another half an hour wondering if there was space to build a proper bathing chamber somewhere in her estate. Clearly, she needed to take more bubble baths.


End file.
